Eternally and Inexplicably Yours
by myt334
Summary: When Sirius Black dies, leaving Harry James Potter in the ruins of his death, Harry never expected to find a new hope in an unexpected place.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The white ceiling of his barren room was becoming increasingly intriguing. Even as he tried to distract himself with the discoloration on his walls, a small smile was brought to his bruised face. He didn't know what his friends would think, and he honestly didn't want to care.

Rolling out of his bed, Harry pulled out the pack of cigarettes and lit one without magic. Placing it between his swollen lips, he recalled the lips he had felt against his own less than an hour before. It was worth the beating from his uncle. It was worth the hunger. It was worth the pain, because Harry Potter knew that if he went one more moment without the taste of the other boy's lips he would go insane.

Without a regret, he pulled open his bedroom window, and began his descent into the unknown.

Chapter 1

The smell of cigarette smoke mixed with cologne as Harry rolled over. Grass tickled his face, as he inched closer to the other boy. Smiling he reached over until his lips grazed the boy's cheekbone, and he laughed as the other boy groaned in false agony.

"Come on Harry, you know I hate it when you do that," he said as Harry rolled onto his back. He took another long drag of his cigarette and chuckled. Stars reflected in his emerald eyes, and a small wrinkle appeared near where ebony hair met alabaster skin. His mouth, full of smoke, opened as he turned to the other boy.

"I like teasing you, Luke," Harry said with affection in his eyes. Peering into the other boy's pale blue eyes he continued, "You're cute when you blush.". He reached with one hand to brush a lock of curly brown hair away from Luke's face. Luke caught Harry's hand and used it to pull the other boy closer to him. Lips met in sweet silence and both boys kissed as Harry's cigarette lay forgotten on the damp grass.

"I don't want you to go," Luke later whispered into Harry's chest as Harry stared up into the stars.

"I don't want to go either," he responded after a moment. He let out a shaky laugh as his hands played with Luke's dark hair. "I never thought I would say that. I never had a home here in Surrey. I was unwanted. Now I've found my home in you," he said while blinking away tears. Luke grabbed Harry's other hand, interlacing his long delicate fingers with Harry's.

"You'll always have a home in me Harry Potter. I love you," Luke said looking up at Harry. Harry's throat tightened and his green eyes watered as he finally let go and began to cry. Luke reached for Harry's chin and brought Harry's lips to his own. Their kiss was bittersweet, and Harry was sure that he could taste salt on Luke's tanned face, but he sat up, and pulled Luke closer to him, lacing his fingers in the boy's hair. When their kiss ended, Harry rested his forehead against Luke's.

"You're mine. Forever," he said through tears of love and sadness. Luke met his gaze with a smile.

"I know."

Harry bent over his school trunk which he had just been permitted access to. He took out all the books and robes, sighing as he emptied his trunk of old crumbs and debris. He pulled out a broken quill, nicking his finger upon something sharp underneath a scrap of paper.

"Merlin's bullocks!" he swore, bringing his finger up to his mouth. After a moment of pain, he reached under the paper and brought the unknown item up to eye level. It was a shard of Sirius's mirror. With a sigh, he wrapped it between two socks, and placed it at the bottom of his newly clean trunk. After a few minutes of mindless packing, he came across an item of clothing that was not his. He brought the dark green hoodie up to his face, and breathed in deeply, catching a scent of cologne. Suppressing tears, he folded the hoodie up carefully, and placed it at the top of his trunk. _What if I never see him again._

After Sirius had died, he had withdrawn from everyone. Remus had disappeared after witnessing his lover's death, and Harry had no one to turn to. He was tired of seeing the looks of pity and concern on everyone's faces. He was tired of being asked if he was alright, because no matter how many times someone asked the answer wouldn't have changed. He felt like someone had torn away another piece of his family. Another person dead. Another person who didn't get to see him grow up. Another person who had died because of Harry.

Returning to Privet Drive felt like a breath of fresh air, because amongst the beatings and lengthy chores, he rarely had a moment to remember Sirius. When he did find a moment to remember, there was always Luke's warm embrace to comfort him and make him forget. Luke had taken the broken pieces left of Harry, and put them back together piece by piece with every loving caress, kiss and embrace. In Luke's arms Harry had found a new family, and a new place to call home. Meeting Luke had been a blessing in his hellish life. No matter how much he loved Hermione and Ron, returning to Hogwarts would take a lot out of him. It would force him to remember, and remembering was not something he did well.

"Hurry up boy!" his uncle called up the stairs. Harry sighed once again, readjusting his glasses and running cut up fingers between his ebony locks. It seemed only moments ago he had felt long delicate fingers running through his hair, pulling him closer, making him feel _whole._ Now he felt _empty._

Harry stood up, straightening his back, and grabbing his trunk and Hedwig's cage. It seemed that at the end of every summer, the biggest struggle he faced was getting down the stairs with his belongings without dying. This summer was not the case. Luke had made sure Harry was fed, even if it meant climbing up to his window while quoting Romeo and Juliet. He had stopped quoting Romeo and Juliet when Harry reminded him of the ending.

"If you don't get your freaky self down these stairs right now boy, I'll teach you a lesson you won't ever forget!" his uncle yelled again from downstairs.

"Coming, uncle Vernon," Harry responded civilly, while travelling down the stairs at a fast pace. When he descended the stairs, he was met by an almost comical sight. His walrus of an uncle, who had no neck, and a purple swollen face stood beside his aunt and cousin. His cousin resembled a small blond whale, whereas his aunt was painfully skinny, with a giraffe neck, and a face that bore much resemblance to a horse.

"Looks like the freaks going back to his freak school to be a pouf," Dudley said with a proud laugh. His mother smiled down at him as if it was the most genius thing anyone had ever said, and Harry had to physically restrain himself from informing them that if he was a pouf at Hogwarts he would still be a pouf everywhere else.

"It was as always, a pleasure to stay at your beautiful abode," Harry said with a crooked smile that reminded Petunia of the dratted man her sister had married. Feeling satisfaction at Dudley's confused look, Harry climbed into Vernon's car, and waited patiently to be dropped off at Kings Cross. Harry purposefully refused to look up at the sky. He had, on too many occasions compared Luke's eyes to the sky.

Upon reaching Kings Cross, Harry's uncle continued the annual departure ritual. It was a beautiful ritual. It was composed of a talking walrus glaring at a skinny young boy. Said walrus, would then grasp the boy's shoulder and inform him that if they received any letters from the freak school there would be hell to pay. He would conclude the ritual by informing Harry that it would be his greatest pleasure to hear that Harry had died freakishly during the school year. Harry would then smile at his uncle, and tell him that it would be his greatest pleasure to die as well, if it meant he didn't have to return to their hellhole of a home, before running away with his trolley.

As Harry walked towards the barrier he clenched his fingers, tightly around his trolley, while pulling out his wand for the first time in weeks. Muttering the incantation, he covered all the bruises and hickeys with a simple glamour, before sticking his wand in his back pocket. Pressing one hand to his throat, he felt the sensitive skin against his neck, and wished he could have been given another moment- another moment to love and be loved. He wasn't even sure if Luke would still be waiting for him when he returned from Hogwarts. He wasn't sure if he would survive long enough to return to Luke.

"Harry!" he heard the screech. Before Harry could react he was attacked by a bush of brown curly hair.

"Hi Hermione," he said while hugging his smaller friend. She still smelled of old books and lavender, even after a summer away from the Hogwarts library.

"Hi? That's all you have to say? You didn't send us a single letter." Hermione said while staring up at Harry. Harry suddenly found interest in his ripped fingernails. Hermione grasped his calloused hands in her own small ones. "Are you alright Harry?"she asked him with eyes full of concern and pity, shining with tears of unspoken things and a longing to comfort her friend. Harry forced his lips to curl upwards,

"I'm doing phenomenally, Mione," he said to her after a moment. Hermione gained a skeptical look in her honey colored eyes, but seemed to let the matter go. She hugged him again, surreptitiously checking to see if he felt any thinner than before he left.

"Have they been feeding you?" she asked him with a look of mild confusion. Harry laughed as if the thought was ridiculous.

"No Mione, I've been getting food from a friend," he said with a faint smile. He began to walk towards the barrier, and guided Hermione forward with his free hand.

"A friend?" Hermione repeated as if she couldn't recall Harry having any friends other than her or Ron. "Who?" she asked while Harry led them through the barrier. _Way to go Harry. Now come up with a suitable response._

"Lu-Lucy. Her name is Lucy," Harry said. He wasn't ready to admit his sexuality to his friends when he was only beginning to figure it out for himself.

"Is she a muggle?" she asked while standing on her toes to look for a hoard of redheads.

"Yes. Her family lives a few streets away from mine. We've been friends for a while," he said softly. Hermione was distracted by her searching and turning to Harry after a minute.

"What was that you said, Harry," she said.

"N-Nothing."

The scarlet Hogwarts express would have normally welcomed him home, but now it felt like another factor taking him further away from home. With every step towards it, he would be reminded of Sirius and his parents. He wanted desperately to turn around and run. He wanted to talk to someone who could understand. He wanted Remus. He needed Luke. Grey steam rose from the engine as the train let out a whistle, letting all passengers know it was close to departing.

"Let's find a compartment. Ron can find us later," Hermione said while grabbing her belongings. Harry followed obediently in suit, knowing it was wiser to listen to what Hermione said to do.

The inside of the train was no less hectic than the exterior. Students ran down the main hall of the train, compartment doors, opened and slammed shut, while students laughed and smiled, happy to finally return to school. Harry gripped his bag even tighter, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep pace with Hermione. He felt the sudden urge for a cigarette. He wanted to feel the smoke, deep and heavy as it filled up his lungs, and then to blow it out slowly along with all his troubles. Hermione darted between the students standing in the hallway, and Harry struggled to keep track of her.

That was when he smelled it. Cologne. Deep and musky. Mixed with the memory of smoke and stars. Harry dropped his trunk and Hedwig before racing down the train. He weaved between people, and shoved others, trying to keep a hold on that scent. His feet left the floor before they hit it, and he flew further and further down the train. Before he knew it he had reached the prefect's compartment, which was now filled with the remnants of a dung bomb.

"Blasted Weasel twins, always dropping their shit everywhere!" Harry heard the voice before he saw the pale pointed face of the Malfoy scion. He looked paler than usual, and his face looked hollowed out. Small wrinkles had appeared on his forehead and he was currently sneering at the state of the prefects compartment. Harry knew Fred and George had most likely stopped by to give the Slytherins a parting gift as Harry's fifth year had been their last year at Hogwarts.

"Easy for you to say, flying ferret," Harry responded tightly. He couldn't believe the scent brought him here. Crossing one arm over his chest while plugging his nose with the other, Harry leaned casually on the frame of the compartment's door. Malfoy looked up, his pale blue eyes widening for a moment. He then reached up to pat down his platinum hair, a nervous gesture for the aristocratic boy.

"Is that the best you can come up with at the moment, _Potter_ ," Malfoy said with a sneer. His words were filled with venom, and his marmoreal face was etched into an expression of disdain, but there was something different. The hate didn't reach his eyes. Harry stood, confused for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Unfortunately yes," Harry responded civilly. Malfoy looked surprised, as if he had been expect a string of vulgar terms to leave Harry's mouth, but then he offered an easy smirk. _I've seen that look somewhere._

"Why are you here, Potter," he said with a sigh. It was an odd tone accompanied with the facial expression, but Harry didn't make much of it.

"I thought I smelled something familiar," Harry said softly. A foreign expression covered the boy's face, and he dug his fingernails into his palm. Closing his hand into a fist, he spared one last glance at Malfoy, who was rubbing his arm. Harry spun on his heel and began to leave, before his arm was caught in someone else's hand.

"Wait!" Malfoy said. He looked at Harry with a desolate expression, devoid of all emotion. But when Harry looked into the cold icy blue eyes, he saw regret. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Malfoy dropped to his knees, and he looked up at Harry desperately, clenching onto Harry's arm for dear life. His long aristocratic fingers reminded Harry of another hand, a hand that grazed his face with loving touches. Harry looked down at Malfoy disgusted, and wrenched his arm out of the other boy's grasp. He ran away from the compartment, unnerved and confused. _I'm so sorry…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Where did you go Harry?" Hermione asked as Harry settled down into his seat beside Ron. The redhead was currently trying to finish the last of his holiday homework, and was scribbling down the futile beginnings of a Potions essay.

"I wanted to talk to someone," Harry said vaguely. Ron looked up from his essay, pausing the scribbling of his quill to raise a red eyebrow towards Harry.

"Cut with the bullshit mate. Where did you really go?" Ron asked him. Harry should have known his friends would be able to tell he was keeping something from them.

"I went to go talk to Malfoy. Call it a vain attempt at trying to stop him from making our lives so miserable," Harry glanced out the window at the surroundings that flew by, leaving the outside as a blur. The circular lens of his glasses reflected the scenery as his fingers pressed against the condensation on the window.

"Why would you go looking for that git? I heard he finally did it," Ron said with a sneer directed towards the blond.

"Did what?"

"Don't be so daft Harry. We think he's finally taken the dark mark," Hermione informed him as she peered up from the old book she was holding. The edges of the binding were as frayed as Harry's mind. He looked down at his feet, suddenly interested in his grimy sneakers.

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure what to say. He always knew Malfoy was destined to follow in his father's footsteps. He knew Malfoy was destined to be a death eater, just like his father and his father before him, but seeing Malfoy at school, he seriously doubted the guy would be able to kill anyone. Especially seeing his clear blue eyes filled with desperation and hearing him plead an apology, Harry wasn't sure Malfoy would truly be capable of serving the Dark Lord. Everyone knew what happened to those that Voldemort thought were dead weight. They were cut loose.

"Are you sure you're okay Harry?" Hermione asked, brushing back a strand of curly frizzy hair. Harry jerked his head up to meet her gaze, causing Hermione to back away from him.

"I'm fine."

"I don't think you are okay. You have a scary expression on your face, Harry," she said, placing the book on the seat beside her. She reached a hand to place on his shoulder, and Harry lifted his hand to place on hers.

"I really am okay, Mione," Harry said, softening his expression before leaning back. "I'm just tired," Harry told her. It was the truth. His eyes were drooping from weeks of sleepless nights. He tucked her knees to his chest and tried to forget. _I'm so sorry Harry._

 _Flashback:_

Harry watched the woodchips under his feet move as he kicked his feet back and forth. He coughed as tears blurred his vision. The hinges of the rusty swing creaked as he moved forward. With one hand clutching the rust covered chain of the swing, Harry lifted the bottle of firewhiskey to his lips and took a long swig. The strong liquid burned all the way down into the pit of his stomach, warming him to the core, but not removing the feeling of despair he felt in his chest. His took another swig as the wind blew through his raven colored hair. He looked forward past the bushes, expecting to see a large black dog. He wished to see the dog padding up to him like nothing had happened. _Sirius_. Suppressing tears, he took another long swig, and gulped in air.

No matter how much whiskey he drank, it would not change the fact that sirius was dead, and that Harry had killed him. He grabbed onto the chain harder and in the dark, he looked up at the stars. _Why was it that he lost every single person he loved._

"Need any help finishing that?" a melodic voice called. Harry almost pulled out his wand before seeing the boy standing to his right. With a sigh, Harry held out the bottle to the boy. The boy sat down in the swing next to him, and look a long swig of the bottle. Harry sneered before grabbing the firewhiskey back from the boy.

"Didn't need to drink all of it," he muttered before taking another swig. The boy looked towards him with curious blue eyes.

"Why are you drinking?" he asked. In the dark, the boy's features were almost angelic. His brown hair curled softly to meet the nape of his neck. His eyes were a shade of blue between silver and azure. His skin was lightly tanned and his pink lips were parted slightly after he asked the question. Harry knew it was too good to be true. Once the boy knew, the angel would be gone.

"I killed someone," Harry said. He took another long swig of the bottle, letting the burn consume him. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw the boy start, then he looked sad.

"I'm sorry," the boy said. There was no pity in the boy's eyes, only sadness.

"Why are _you_ sorry?" Harry asked pointedly, lifting the large bottle up again. The boy grabbed at the bottle with long aristocratic fingers.

"Because you're obviously blaming yourself for someone else's death," the boy said while placing the large bottle on the ground.

"How do you know I didn't murder someone?" Harry said angrily. _Who was this boy to think he knew him?_

"Killers don't look sorry, and they certainly don't drink away their sorrows," the boy said while closing the emptied bottle. Harry clutched his head in his hands.

"You're wrong!" he said loudly. He looked up at the boy, who had never seen such agony in someone's eyes before. "I _killed_ him!" Harry shouted. He slipped off the swing onto the cold ground. "I killed him," he said with a sob. The other boy, got off his swing and wrapped his arms around Harry. As one boy shook with tears, the other held him, allowing him to release his sorrow.

"It's okay to cry. It only shows that you've been strong for too long," he later told Harry as he rubbed his swollen eyes. The boy's blue eyes were filled with sadness as Harry looked up at him.

"Why do _you_ look sad?" he asked while removing his glasses. The boy lifted up a hand, and used the pad of his thumb to wipe at one of Harry's tears. Harry's emerald eyes looked like broken pieces of green glass rimmed with pink. The pain in his eyes was equally alluring as it was startling and he looked like a broken warrior, desperately hunting for some way to be pieced back together.

"It makes me sad to see someone so beautiful hurting," the boy told Harry. With one last sad smile, the boy began to stand.

"Wait! What's your name?" The boy turned around, framed by moonlight. His silhouette showed him to be tall and lanky, and it wasn't hard for Harry to picture a pair of wings on his back.

"Luke."

"Will I see you again?"

"Do you want to?" Luke asked. Through curls and blue irises, Harry saw a hopeful expression.

"Yes!" Harry said quickly. Clearing his throat he stated, "I'm Harry,"

"I know."

 _Back to Present_

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry woke with a start, hitting his head on the cold glass of the Hogwarts Express' misty window. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. He then struggled to readjust his glasses, which were askew on his face, and leaned down to tie his shoelaces to avoid eye contact with with friends. His fingers fumbled and he shuddered as he fought to catch his breath. It had felt so real and in the moment he woke up he had almost called out Luke's name.

"Sorry Mione, I just had a dream," he said while looking up at her and smiling. Ron set aside the potions essay which seemed to be finished and looked at Harry seriously. He stood up crossing over to sit beside Harry in the compartment.

"So, Mione tells me you met a girl. Why didn't you tell me mate?" Ron said with a wide impish grin, while he patted Harry forcefully on the shoulder in a congratulatory way. Harry hit the window of the compartment again with a thud, and sat up rubbing his head tenderly.

"Merlin's beard Ron!"

"You had it coming Harry. You didn't mention a single word about your scandalous summer lover. Actually, you didn't write us at all," she said while flipping a page in her book. _She's never going to let that go is she?_

"Mione!" Harry said affronted. Rubbing his forehead in embarrassment, Harry was all too aware of the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"So, who's the lucky girl?" Ron said without allowing Harry a proper moment to recover from the previous embarrassment. Harry glared at both of his friends for ganging up on him and cracked his knuckles in agitation.

"I told you Mione. We were just friends. Nothing more."

"I've been friends with you for six years Harry. I can tell when you're lying," she said smartly with a satisfied look on her face for catching Harry in a lie. Not that she hadn't busted Harry for lying numerous times in the past six years. _If she can tell I'm lying so easily, wouldn't it just be easier to come out right here and now._

"Fine. I met someone this summer, but it didn't work out. I'm moving on with my life. Besides, with a dark lord wanting my head on a pike it's not like I had the bloody leisure of enjoying a plain old romantic relationship, and with a muggle no less. They have no idea of the war- no knowledge of the dark lord plotting my death at this very moment. How cruel of me would it be for me to make someone love me and then die fighting a war they know nothing about- a war they have nothing to do with," Harry said while crossing his arms across his chest defensively. Ron looked down guiltily, as if he suddenly remembered that Harry was living on borrowed time. The atmosphere of the compartment suddenly changed to melancholy.

"Don't feel bad Ron. This is a war, even if no one admits it, and in times of war sacrifices must be made," Harry said grimly. Hermione suddenly looked greatly saddened.

"But, you shouldn't deny yourself of being happy Harry. You deserve happiness more than anyone else I know," she spoke up after a moment of pure silence. Harry smiled, pulling her in for a hug.

"I am happy. I have the two greatest friends in the entire universe. Call me Happy Potter," he said smiling at both of them. With a war brimming and the constant reminder of death around them, Hermione was right. Harry had no right to take away whatever happiness they had left. Merlin knew when any of them could die.

"Write her a letter at least. Bloody hell did you even tell the girl you wouldn't see her again?" Ron commented after a moment.

"Like you have the experience to give romantic advice, Ronald," Hermione cut it while Ron tried to offer Harry more advice on how to fall in love. "But he is right. You should say goodbye at least," she said smiling. Grabbing Ron by the arm, she pulled him out of the compartment to leave Harry in privacy.

 _Dearest Luke,_

 _I hope my affections do not arrive so late that you believed I had forgotten you. You are in every breath I take, every glance I take at the sky. You are what I think of when I wake up and when I fall asleep. You are the reason my still heart beats and my lips remember to smile. Do not forget that you are the sole reason I am still alive, and I will forever be indebted to you. I can never repay you for your kindness, for your love._

 _This is why I regret having to tell you that it would be better for you to love someone else. I realise I tell you this after everything we have been through, but I can't put you in danger. I must spare the details, but I am part of a deadly war. This is not a war you will have heard of in your newspapers or on the television. I am the main weapon in this war. I cannot tell you why, or how, but I can tell you there is a very slim chance of me surviving._

 _Oh how I wish I had been brave enough to tell you myself. To tell you that I am living on borrowed time. To tell you that I have stolen life from the deaths of innocent people who died in order to save me. I deserved none of their sacrifices, but least of all do I deserve your love. Your love is something so pure, so untouchable, that I cannot bear to taint it with the spoils of war. It would be better for you to move on and learn to love someone else. No matter how much you think it may hurt, it will be better for you to know I willingly left you rather than for me be stolen away from you by death._

 _Just remember that I love you. I love you with every fiber it my body. I'll love you until the last heartbeat in my chest, and I'll love you in my dying breath. I'll love you even after that, because not even death can take away my love for you._

 _Eternally and Inexplicably Yours,_

 _Harry James Potter_

Folding parchment, Harry stuffed the letter into an envelope. Not knowing how to seal the envelope, he took a shoelace off his ratty sneakers and tied the envelope shut. Hoping hedwig wouldn't mind the dirty shoelace, he opened her cage and stroked one vanilla bean wing. The fibers in the feathers parted at the slightest touch, and Hedwig affectionately nuzzled Harry's pale finger with her beak.

"Hey girl. I have a letter for you. I need you to find Luke," Harry said while tying the yellowed letter to her leg with a leather thong. Hedwig pecked his finger as if asking where her food was. "I'm sorry girl, I don't have any food for you right now. Please," Harry pleaded as he opened the window of the train compartment. Crisp air rushed in, blowing Harry's raven hair back out of his face and allowing Hedwig to escape from the confines of the Hogwarts Express. As Harry watched Hedwig's strong wings carried away the letter containing the last words he would ever say to his love, Harry felt dread. His words to Luke marked the beginning of a war, a war which he was not sure he would live to see the end of. Unbeknownst to him, Hedwig carried the letter not back to Surrey where amongst the darkness lay a ray of hope, but somewhere else completely unexpected.


End file.
